


There are no plums in winter

by cruciel



Category: Bleach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-09-16
Updated: 2007-09-16
Packaged: 2017-10-05 17:17:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cruciel/pseuds/cruciel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"- WHADDAYA MEAN, YA WANT TO GO PICK PLUMS?" Zaraki's bellow blasted him from several miles away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There are no plums in winter

**Author's Note:**

> AU

“Taichou! Kuchiki taichou! Please come immediately! TAICHOU!”

Byakuya’s hand stilled over the rice paper scroll, betraying his surprise. The freshly ground ink coating the brush made a spectacular splash against the pristine white paper. He sighed. The brush clicked ominously against the ink stone.

Renji blanched and backed away towards the door. “I’ll see who’s disturbing-”

The door crashed aside, rocking on its delicate hinges, sending Renji sprawling against the finely lacquered cabinet. Byakuya winced at the miniscule damage, the noise and mostly, Renji’s lack of grace. Couldn’t the lad even fall properly?

He remembered Renji’s bankai, raining down from the higher heavens in messy chunks and tatters. On him. With Debris. And copious amount of dust.

Probably not.

“Cease your blatherings and enunciate,” he snapped sharply at the uncouth figure huddled in the doorway. The comment sent both Renji and Kentarou into a frenzied silent talk, communicating with their eyeballs and what they thought were discreet gestures of ‘disturb the captain, get throat sawn off!’.

Oh now, really. Byakuya admitted that he had been a might…testy since he and that…_barbarian_ were forced to take the younger shinigami back from their sojourn on Earth, but that was only because Rukia had steadfastly ignored him since her return. It hurt to be ignored by his little sister, and so he had been taking out his…_annoyance_ at everyone else. Usually Renji. Because he was convenient like that.

Byakuya wasn’t going to tell them that. He was definitely above explaining himself. If he did the moon might drop off the sky and that was a never-ending nightmare of protocol. And papers. And Zaraki’s smirking. And Ukitake’s good-natured, resigned ‘it couldn’t be helped, eh?’

Kentarou was Ukitake’s subordinate. He really must concentrate.

“Report,” He commanded, frowning. Kentarou gave a high-pitched whimper before falling on his face again.

“Forgive my intrusion sir on this joyous morning of winter the captain is asking for your attention immediately on a very urgent matter it is imperative that you attend-”

“Stop grovelling, ya bastard,” Renji snorted. “He’s gone.”

Kentarou sat up, sighing. “Does he know how rude it is to shun-po while someone’s talking?” he grumbled.

Renji shrugged. “You gotta admit, it’s pretty handy. Pass the booze will ya? Captain’s been watching me like a hawk, I was ready to crawl up the wall.”

“Guess he’s a bit tense. Massive fight with Zaraki-taichou and all.”

“Have they rebuilt the east sector yet?”

“Whaddaya mean, rebuild? There’s nothing left there! They’re thinking of leaving it as it is for entertainment. Sorta like a colosseum.”

“What the hell is that?”

“Nevermind. OI! Don’t drink all my booze ya bastard! It’s plum, ya know!”

***

Byakuya deftly soared over the rooftops of the Soul Society, honing in on the familiar signature of Ukitake’s reiatsu. It didn’t seem to be troubled or weak in any way, but Byakuya knew well that didn’t indicate the sick man’s actual status. Ukitake could be bleeding to death physically yet maintain a blazon of spiritual power that flattened the entire region. It had happened before, and Byakuya had been the one to find him. He didn’t intend to repeat the experience a second time.

_“Oh, hello Kuchiki, ” With his pale hair and even paler skin, the one thing that seemed to keep the 13th Captain alive was the stark black of his hakama and the splashes of blood, hot and fresh and livid. “Don’t worry, all theirs,” he had muttered, ghost of a wistful grin sketching his face._

Byakuya still couldn’t understand what he had felt at that particular moment, seeing the slender man prostrate on the grass littered with hollow corpses. It should have been alarm, relief, or even pity at such weakness. A captain’s knees should never touch the ground.

What he felt instead was anger.

_You lie_, he had replied flatly. _By delaying the call for help, one cannot help but wonder if you wish to die._

Ukitake’s storm-grey eyes had swivelled to him sharply, scouring him.

_“Perhaps,” Ukitake had agreed. “You…understand, do you not? Pride?”_

Hisana had been the same. By her calm acceptance of death, Hisana had made it clear that Byakuya had no part of the proceedings. Before, during and after.

Byakuya had never outwardly lost his temper. His anger usually translated itself to be a distant-coldly- shunning-out sort. This time he couldn’t afford to be distant; he was here, now, and he really did so hate being ignored.

_“The hell with that,” Byakuya remembered himself snarling at startled grey eyes. “You’re going to live.”_

***

  
The heaven suddenly shook, the power so raw it jarred Byakuya’s teeth, rudely shaking him out of his reflection. 

“- WHADDAYA MEAN, YA WANT TO GO PICK PLUMS?” Zaraki’s bellow blasted him from several miles away.

Byakuya blinked. That irritating man. What was he doing there with-

Wait.

If HE was there, then-

“BYAKUSHIIIIIIIII!” Yachiru’s shriek preceded the mop of wild pink hair smothering him. “YOU’RE LATE YOU’RE LATE YOU’RE REALLY LATE WE’RE GOING TO PICK PLUMS!!”

An armful of a squirming child digging into his pockets for sweets was really not good for dashing entrances.

It shouldn’t have taken him this long to figure out that Jyuushirou Ukitake was not in any mortal peril in any way. The man in question sat beneath a budding sakura tree, calmly sipping his tea, smiling at the towering, hulking breathing wall that jingled comically every time he bristled. Zaraki was noisy. Uncouth. Foul-mannered.

He was also shouting at Ukitake.

“YA BARELY GOT OUT OF THAT BLOODY SURGERY AND NOW YOU WANNA GO _WHERE_? DO YOU KNOW WHAT I HAD TO PROMISE TO THAT DEMON WOMAN TO LET YOU OUT?”

“A kidney, no doubt,” Byakuya couldn’t help commenting. “A brain might do all of us a benefit, however it is probably absent anyway.”

“STAY OUTTA THIS YOU PONCY-”

“She’s not a demon woman!” Yachiru spoke around an eyeball candy. Bright red strawberry flavoured, her favourite. Byakuya’s ego died a tiny bit. “She let me play with her zanpaktou! I named it Squishy!”

Zaraki’s eye narrowed. “Oi, who’s side are you on?”

“Ken-chan, eat more candy! Byakushi has heaps!”

“Good morning, Byakuya,” Jyuushirou beamed at him, a picture of serenity among chaos. “I suppose Kentarou told you about today’s outing?”

Byakuya plucked Yachiru from his hair. He took out his emergency supply of Star Pops (sour) and flung them as hard as he could. Yachiru was a pink blur disappearing into the horizon, Zaraki cursing and following.

“What is the meaning of this?” He asked, pleased with his mirror-flat tone in the sudden silence.

Ukitake was oblivious to his displeasure. “He didn’t tell you then? Oh, never mind, you’re here at any rate. The plums are in season! It’s a nice day to go and-”

“It’s winter. There are no plums in season. It’s still February- ”

“Oh I know that,” Jyuushirou waved at him with a laugh, wide sleeves of his hakama flapping. “I didn’t mean plum trees, I meant the plum wine! Kyoraku and I looked into self-distilling processes and it was fascinating! Since Nanao has chained him to his desk on pain of drowning in rose petals, I’m afraid I must ask for your company and Zaraki’s.”

Byakuya stared at him, speechless. Guileless eyes, much older and wiser than his, gazed back with gentle amusement.

“And this is why you coerced Zaraki into getting you out of Unohana’s observation?” he asked finally.

“Yes.”

“And this is why you sent Kentarou to me.”

“Yes.”

“Because you want all of us to go taste plum wine with you.”

“Poetry is optional,” Ukitake said gravely.

“You’re mad,” Byakuya said finally.

“I’m alive,” the older man replied.

Somewhere down the hillside, they could hear Zaraki’s cursing and Yachiru’s replying laughter. It sounded like a game of tag, although trying to convince anyone besides Yachiru that Ken-chan was really just chasing with no intent to maim and kill was pretty difficult.

“He’s annoying,” Byakuya said abruptly. “Intrusive. His manners are singularly offensive.”

The teacup landed with a firm _clink_. “He is also the one who accompanied you to the world-”

“We nearly killed each other and you know it. You and your bizarre idea of partnership-”

“Distracted you from brooding over Rukia’s absence, did it not?”

“Hardly the ideal circumstances for meeting her again-”

“Zaraki had his own interests too-”

“HE SHOULD HAVE BEEN THERE WITH YOU AT THE HOSPITAL.” Byakuya snarled.

Jyuushirou fell silent.

“You _must_ care about your well-being, Ukitake-taichou,” Byakuya continued, schooling his emotions. “You are an indispensable source of information and communication in Soul Society. The Commander relies heavily on your suggestions. More personally, I must add that Rukia’s trust and admiration you as her captain is important to me as a brother. You must not falter. If rest is necessary, then you must.”

Ukitake blinked.

Then he asked quietly, "And am I important to Rukia's brother himself?"

Byakuya swallowed. "I-"

Zaraki’s snort from the trees made them both look up sharply.

“Aw, what the hell. I come back and there’s the princess giving a lecture. Talk about boring.” The earth trembled as he leapt down next to them, Yachiru grinning at his shoulder. “I heard there’s some drinking happening. I want my booze.”

Ukitake smiled. “Perhaps Unohana will need to replace your liver after this, my friend. I wouldn’t put it past Kyouraku to have added more alcohol than plum into this batch.”

Zaraki shrugged. “Just as I like it. Kyouraku is all right; although he can ditch the pink. Any more pink in my life and people will look at me weird.”  He smirked. “Coming, princess?”

Byakuya drew back, about to hiss out a deadly volley of _pink_ sakura blades just to show his spite. “How dare-”

“Oh dear,” Ukitake said faintly, grabbing his chest. “I do feel suddenly woozy-”

Two pairs of hands, one slender and pale, the other broken and scarred, steadied him immediately.

“We’re onto you,” Byakuya said softly.

Zaraki grunted. “I ain’t taking you back to that demon woman.”

Ukitake laughed, freely and carelessly. It felt good. All of it.

“Let’s go and drink then.” He suggested.


End file.
